Extra info: Trevor Davis is scheduled to play Lestat’s (3343 Adams Avenue) on Friday, February 1

San Diego continues the steady manufacture of syrupy boy-pop even after its poster child (rhymes with Shmason Shmraz) probably needs to supplement his income by washing commuters’ windows at an off-ramp of the 163.

Trevor Davis can sing, which is why it’s such a shame that his background music is limp, cookie-cutter rock. His saccharine-sweet vocals melt over the melodies like too much ice cream.

Davis is certainly not lacking any talent. Nor is his studio band. From every note and harmony, and even down to the album artwork, the project gleams with professional polish, hard work, and innate skill.

What’s missing is the credibility afforded even the most amateur garage bands with half the natural talent. The mechanical, formulaic soft-voice pop template appeals to the braces-and-lip-gloss crowd that haven’t heard it consistently from a dozen predecessors for the past ten years.